Rating
by Phoenix Fanatic
Summary: Fang, bored, starts to rate girls walking by along with Gazzy and Iggy. The trio gets more than they bargained for when a familiar-looking girl walks by. Fax, oneshot.


A/N- Fang rating girls in MR3 was completely unexpected, but hey, it sure was fun.

Thanks for reading!

Disclaimer- I am as likely to owning the characters as Kesha is to brushing her teeth with toothpaste.

* * *

"Nice," I said approvingly, moving my sunglasses up to my forehead. "An easy eight, I'd say."

"Seriously?" Gazzy piped up beside me. "No way. A seven."

"Mmm, yeah, you're right. A seven."

It was the perfect, movie-scene night. The Flock had been flying for a few days straight, still tracking some leads on Itex. We'd stopped in Venice Beach, California, for some much-needed sun. And with all the craziness on the Beach, if anyone happened to see our covered-up wings, we wouldn't look too out of place. God bless the United States of America.

"You guys are the most misogynic, chauvinistic, opinionated perverts in the history of-"

"Aw, come on, Ig," I said. "You're just sad you can't see them."

Iggy scowled on the bench next to me. Sure, he was mad that he'd been dragged along, but it was better than the alternative. Max, Nudge and Angel were out shopping, which was probably my version of the Apocalypse. So, with nothing better to do, I'd taken Gazzy and Iggy out to the boardwalk to walk around. We eventually gravitated to a bench- and well, things went downhill after that.

Did you know that, per capita, people of Los Angeles wear the least clothes? Actually, I completely made up that fact, but it sure seems like it. If you're not shirtless and/or wearing a skimpy bikini, you're stared at like a freak. It's a nice change, actually. The three of us had opted to wear our shirts, thank you very much, but with our recently-purchased sunglasses, we looked pretty awesome, if I say so myself.

Iggy said the sunglasses made us look like pimps, but I still say they look pretty darn sexy.

"It's not right, to rate girls!" Iggy kept ranting. "How would you feel if you walked by a bunch of girls, and you got rated a three?"

"I wouldn't get a three. I'd get at least an eight." I grinned and happily people-watched. The surf was behind us, which meant we were facing the shops, which meant that there were plenty of squealing girls running by with their purchases. Score!

"It's not that I don't like girls -quite the opposite, actually- it's just that I'm curious if Gazzy's opinion is the same as mine. So it's rather obvious that I need to voice my opinions aloud."

Iggy just did a good-olde-fashioned facepalm, sighing to himself. We had attempted to describe each girl to him as they walked by, but he eventually shut us up.

"Oooh, Fang, there's a nine coming from your right!" Gazzy yelled. Okay, seeing an eight-year-old this hyped up on girls probably wasn't very healthy, but it sure was funny.

"Where?"

"Look, right on the edge of the boardwalk, jogging and coming closer. Hey, I betcha ten bucks that you can't flirt with her." Gazzy grinned.

"Oh, really?" How could I possibly turn that down?" It was a Man Challenge. A Man Challenge was one of those things that you had to accept, or else be ridiculed for the rest of your life. The Last Man Challenge was when I had challenged Gazzy to watch _The Notebook _without crying (he lost).

"This'll be fun…" Iggy murmured to my left.

The jogging brunette was coming closer. Her ponytail swung behind her back in a mesmerizing rhythm. She looked like she could have jogged right out from _Baywatch- _it was hard to imagine anyone looking better. But she definitely wasn't a ten- no, a ten was blow-your-mind hot.

"Here goes," I said, standing. I re-adjusted the sunglasses. "Hey there!" I called to the brunette, who slowed.

"Hi," smiled. So far, so good.

"So…" I said. Hmm, this would be more difficult than I thought. I didn't have that much experience with girls. "I've seen you someplace before, right?"

She flashed a saccharine smile. "That's why I don't go there anymore."

Wow. Burn.

It was time to go for the stupidest, cheesiest, pick-up line in the world. I lowered my voice an octave. "I could fulfill your every sexual fantasy."

Her eyes grew wide. "You mean you've got both a donkey and a Great Dane?"

A pause. I was honestly stunned. "See ya later!" she called, jogging away. "Don't forget the Great Dane!"

Slowly, I walked back to the bench, whereupon Iggy and Gazzy thoroughly laughed at me, which I deserved. "Oh, God, that was brilliant." Iggy wiped away a fake tear. "Priceless."

I harrumphed. "Whatever. She was into me, I could see it in her eyes. You know, I bet that-"

Woah. Hold the phone.

It was _her. _

She was…an _eleven._

On a scale of _ten. _

She was perfect; no other word could describe her. She was walking right towards us. She was fully clothed, shockingly enough, and sunglasses covered her eyes. Her hair was blonde, but with darker highlights laced throughout. She carried herself with a certain confident grace that was also wary. Unlike the other girls on the boardwalk, she wasn't trying to show off or anything. No, she was a _natural. _

Bags hung off her wrists; she wore a windbreaker, despite the heat of the afternoon. Since the sun was at her back, I had trouble seeing her face.

"Oh. My. God," I breathed. "Look at her."

"Who?"

"_Her. _With the bags, and the gorgeous hair, and the sunglasses-"

Gazzy narrowed his eyes. "She looks familiar."

"She's an eleven. Definitely."

"An eleven? Wow, she must be some looker," Iggy said wryly.

"Well," I answered. "Sure, she looks fantastic- but it's the way she moves, her confidence, her personality- oh, God, I'm in love."

My senses were completely overloaded. It was like I was drowning, which would certainly explain why I had some issues breathing. She walked right past us. "An eleven, definitely."

"Excuse me?" the blonde slowed down right in front of us. Oops- she's heard. "What did you just say?"

"Uhhh…"

Oh, damn.

Iggy saved me. With his best puppy dog smile he looked in the general direction of the girl as he commented, "He said we were meeting at eleven o'clock, not later. Sorry for any miscommunication."

"Miscommunication my ass!" And with that, the girl punched me right in the face.

It was similar to running into a brick wall. This girl was tank- that punch _hurt. _If I had been expecting it I would have been able to dodge or block it, but it came completely out of the blue. And she broke my sunglasses! That- that-

Iggy's laugh interrupted me. "HAHAHAHAHAHA! You just got OWNED!" And he hadn't even seen it.

I peeled off the remnants of my sunglasses, groaning. That would leave a mark. There was a strange sound- it took me a few seconds to realize that people nearby had started to clap. Insult to injury.

"Wait- Fang?" the amazing girl cocked her head to one side.

W-what? How did this girl know my name?

"FANG!" The girl ripped off her sunglasses.

It was Max.

Holy crap.

Holy frikken crap.

This time, both Iggy and Gazzy's laughter exploded on each side of me. "HAHAHAHAHA! THE IRONY!" Iggy was literally in tears, hysterical. He doubled over, holding his stomach.

"Fang, what the hell?" Max was stuck between laughing and wanting to punch me for a second time. "I thought you guys were just going for a walk."

"Well, we did," I explained, rubbing my face. "But we got bored, and well…" Wait a minute; we were missing the main point. "You punched me!"

"You deserved it!"

"It hurt!"

"That was nothing!"

We both paused, blushing furiously. I stood up, coming over to her side. "I thought you were shopping."

She held up the bags. "What does it look like?"

"But where's Nudge and Angel?"

She nodded her head to the right, where I could see the two of them trying on cheap, gaudy jewelry. I winced. "Oh."

Deadpan, she said, "So you were rating girls."

I opened and closed my mouth, trying to make my excuse sound good. "Ugh…well, theoretically you could say so, but…"

"Gazzy's eight!"

"He needs to keep his testosterone levels healthy."

"He doesn't even _have _testosterone yet."

"Yes he does, it's just not overly active yet."

"And there's a reason for that."

We had gotten closer to each other, and farther away from the bench without realizing it. Max took a deep breath, obviously keeping herself from slapping me. "So I got an eleven. Why didn't you recognize me?"

"The sun was at your back, and you had sunglasses on. Any why didn't you recognize me?"

"The sunglasses. I didn't even see Gazzy and Iggy. Again, I was pretty pissed, so I did the first thing that came to mind."

I could hear Angel and Nudge's laughter carry over to us on the wind. There were hundreds of people milling about, yet I could hear the two of them over the other dozens of conversations and sounds of the beach. "Sorry," I said.

She turned to me. "Fang, look. Rating girls is stupid. Sure, I rate guys in my head all the time, I'll admit that. And I'm flattered I got an eleven." She grinned. "Truce?"

I matched her smile. "Truce."

As we walked back over to the bench, I asked, "So if you rate guys in your head, what did I get?"

She threw back her head and laughed. It made me feel happier inside. Awww. "Well, between you and me, we have the same taste. That's all I'll say."

"Wait- does that mean I got an eleven? Really?"

She kept her eyes neutral. "I don't know."

"Hey, Max!" Gazzy came running up to us. "You wouldn't BELIEVE what Fang was saying about you. He kept going on about your hair, your style, and how he was in lo-"

"GAZZY!" I roared. I ran over to him, picked him up, and threw him over my shoulder. He giggled and laughed. As I did, I whispered, "I said nothing."

"Okay…" he whined.

"So, Gazzy," Max said as we sat down on the bench. "What did Fang say about me?"

Gazzy's face contorted. I knew what he wanted to say, but he wouldn't. We had a Man Bond- something that no woman could break. Gazzy wouldn't tell Max what I'd said. Gazzy and I were tight; no one could come between us-

"FANG SAID THAT HE WAS IN LOVE WITH YOU."

Well.

There goes the neighborhood.


End file.
